Suddenly her eyes widened, a slow smile curving her soft mouth. “You are a cunning devil, aren’t you, Mikhail? But I think your cleverness may have gotten you into a bit of trouble.”
He watched her with hooded eyes. His teeth gleamed white in the firelight. “Did I happen to mention, Miss Whitney, that the last person impertinent enough to beat me at chess was thrown in the dungeon and tortured for thirty years?”
“I believe that would have made you about two at the time,” she teased, her eyes glued to the chessboard.
He sucked in his breath sharply. He had been comfortable in her presence, felt totally accepted. She obviously believed he was mortal, with superior telepathic powers. Mikhail lazily reached across the board to make his move, saw the dawning comprehension in her eyes. “I believe what we have is checkmate,” he said silkily.
“I should have known a man who walks in the forest surrounded by wolves would be devious.” She smiled up at him. “Great game, Mikhail. I really enjoyed it.” Raven sank back into the cushions of the chair. “Can you talk to animals?” she asked curiously.
He liked her in his home, liked the way the fire burned blue in her hair and the way the shadows clung so lovingly to her face. He had memorized every inch of it, knew that if he closed his eyes, the picture would still be there, the high, delicate cheekbones, her small nose and lush mouth. “Yes.” He answered truthfully, not wanting lies between them.
“Would you have killed Jacob?”
Her lashes were beautiful and held his attention. “Be careful of what you ask little one,” he cautioned.
She curled her legs beneath under her, regarded him steadily. “You know, Mikhail, you are so used to using your power, you don’t even stop to think if it’s right or wrong.”
“He had no right to touch you. He was causing you pain.”
“But he didn’t know he was. And you had no right to touch me, but you did anyway,” she pointed out reasonably.
His eyes glittered coldly. “I have every right. You belong to me.” He said it calmly, his voice soft, with a hint of warning. “More importantly, Raven, I did not cause you pain.”
Raven’s breath caught in her throat. Her tongue moistened her lips with a small, delicate gesture. “Mikhail”—her voice was hesitant, as she chose her words carefully—”I belong to myself. I’m a person, not something you can own. In any case. I live in the United States. I’m going back there soon and intend to be on the next train to Budapest.”
His smile was that of a hunter. Predatory. For a moment the firelight gleamed red, so that his eyes glowed like a wolf’s in the night. He said nothing, simply watched her unblinkingly.
Her hand fluttered defensively to her throat. “It’s late; I should be going,” She could hear the pounding of her own heart. What was it she wanted from him? She didn’t know, only that this was the most perfect, frightening night of her life and she wanted to see him again. He was utterly motionless, menacing in his complete stillness. She waited breathlessly. Fear was suffocating her, sending tremors through her slender form. Fear he would let her go; fear he would force her to stay. She drew air into her lungs. “Mikhail, I don’t know what you want.” She didn’t know what she wanted either.
He stood up then, power and grace combined. His shadow reached her before he did. His strength was enormous, but his hands were gentle as they pulled her to her feet. His hands slid up her arms, rested lightly on her shoulders, thumbs stroking the pulse in her neck. His touch sent warmth curling in her abdomen. She was so small beside him, so fragile and vulnerable. “Do not try to leave me, little one. We need one another.” His dark head bent lower, his mouth brushing her eyelids, sending little darts of fire licking along her skin. “You make me remember what living is,” he whispered in his mesmerizing voice. His mouth found the corner of hers, and a jolt of electricity sizzled through her body.